


Biology Is Not Power

by snarkasaurus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Biology is not related to power. That’s the first lesson everyone learns in their Sexuality and Humanity class in high school. Like, the very first thing. First words in the book and everything. </p>
<p>Stiles is an alpha. Derek is an omega. Somehow Derek's status completely and utterly missed Stiles...right up until Derek showed up at his house in heat. Well. This'll be fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biology Is Not Power

**Author's Note:**

> So much love goes to alorarose, clumsykisses, and sparrow for the betas! All remaining mistakes are mine. Adoration to bumerbmw for her ABSOLUTELY UTTERLY AMAZING ART OMFG. [You can find it all here.](http://bumerbmw.livejournal.com/33423.html)

Biology is not related to power. That’s the first lesson everyone learns in their Sexuality and Humanity class in high school. Like, the very first thing. First words in the book and everything. It took Stiles forever to figure out why it was so necessary to designate between the two. To him, it made perfect sense. Alphas needed omegas to mate. Omegas couldn’t have kids with anyone but an alpha. Betas didn’t need either, and were the majority of the population. His teacher once said that betas only had a designation because someone in charge couldn’t stand not to label everyone.

To him, it seemed completely logical to think that omegas were in charge of things, if anyone had to be in charge. They held the power. They needed an alpha if they wanted to have children, but that was it. They didn’t have to have an alpha for any other reason. Yeah, if they went into heat, they’d be miserable and unhappy, but there were suppressants, toys, and if the rumors he heard were true, plenty of places an omega in heat could go if they needed relief. 

Alphas, on the other hand, couldn’t form the attachment that would help them stabilize their emotions and their control. He didn’t think it was entirely fair, but he figured that the trade off was something like “get control” for “provide constant companionship, affection, and orgasms.” Of course, it wasn’t that alphas were incapable of controlling themselves in general. As far as Stiles could tell, the control provided by the alpha/omega bond was superficial, and only said so that it didn’t seem like omegas were at the mercy of alphas with nothing to offer in return. 

Hey, he said he could understand it, not that it was fair. 

There wasn’t a difference anywhere else, either, his teacher made a point to establish over the semester long class. There was absolutely no difference between alphas, betas, and omegas when it came to intelligence, physical strength, nurturing ability, and so on, anymore than there was a difference between males, females, and those whose gender didn’t fall within the gender binary. A female alpha could be just as physically strong as a male omega, and a person whose preferred pronoun was “they” could be just as intelligent as a person who preferred “she”. 

One lacrosse player had made some stupid crack about boys obviously being stronger than girls, so obviously, the teacher was full of shit. In response, Mr. Ashland had pointed to two girls who happened to be on the wrestling team. “You wanna take them on?” he’d asked dryly. 

“…No. Point made,” the kid had answered, turning red, while the kids around him snickered. 

So anyway, biology didn’t equate to power, and it made sense to him, and he didn’t know why people said it. 

And then he met Derek Hale.

~*~

“Dude, come on, quit using your werewolf powers to cheat!” Stiles complained, missing yet another save when the ball whistled past him into the net. “Cheating cheater.”

“It’s not cheating to use what I’ve been given!” Isaac protested with a grin. “I can use it in a game, so why can’t I use it now?” 

Stiles groaned. “I won’t miss you after graduation,” he grumbled. It was an empty threat at best. He knew damned well that he’d be seeing Isaac after graduation. It was part of the whole pack thing. They were all going to the same college, sharing a house that they were all chipping in to rent, yadda, yadda. It made him feel better to say it, though. 

“Lies,” Scott said cheerfully. “You’d miss him if he wasn’t there.” He scooped up another ball off the line and flipped it in the net of his stick a couple of times. 

“Your logic is flawed,” Stiles said, readying himself. “I wouldn’t know he existed if he wasn’t there.” 

“You already know him, though,” Scott pointed out, and took the shot. Stiles missed it. “You’d miss him because you know what it’s like to have him around. So, not flawed!” 

Stiles sighed and flipped the two errant balls into his own net, sending them back toward his friends. “Damn your logic. I never should have encouraged you to study more.” 

“I wouldn’t be graduating if you hadn’t,” Scott pointed out, catching his ball easily, and tossing it around again. “So, really, you cursed yourself.”

Stiles ducked Isaac’s incoming shot, and glared at the werewolf from where he’d landed in the dirt, flat on his stomach. “I hate you. I hate you all.” 

“Lies!” Isaac said, mimicking Scott’s cheerful tone from before. “C’mon, just a few more, then we’ll go.” 

Stiles got up, and let them keep taking shots. He might grumble about it, but really, he didn’t mind. Too much. Trying to stop shots that had werewolf strength and ability behind them was a challenge for anyone, of course, but he found it honed his reflexes, and made things better in a game. Ever since the game where he’d scored goals, Coach had actually been giving him some playing time. In order to capitalize on it, and actually prove he deserved it, he’d been practicing with Isaac and Scott. Boyd and Jackson, too, when they could be convinced to join in, but that didn’t happen often.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back in the locker room. Scott and Isaac were giving each other shit about who sent Stiles into the dirt more. He let them bicker with an eyeroll, and grabbed his phone to see if his dad had given him an ETA yet. Instead, he had a bunch of texts and voicemails from Derek. “The hell?” he muttered, poking at his phone. The texts were all variants of “where are you?”, getting increasingly terser the closer to the present they got. 

“What’s up?” Scott asked, peering at Stiles’ screen to see what was making him frown. 

“Derek’s being weird,” Stiles muttered, punching his voicemail button and raising the phone to his ear. “He blew up my phone while we were practicing. I don’t know why.” 

_”Stiles. Where are you? Need your help. Call me.”_

_“Answer your fucking phone, Stiles. I need your help.”_

_“Please? Don’t ignore me.”_

_“Stiles, please.”_

_“Help me.”_

By the time the last voicemail was finished, Stiles was frowning. “That was really weird.” 

“He didn’t sound like he was in pain?” Isaac offered, but Stiles noticed he was packing his bag a little bit faster. 

“No, he sounds more irritated than anything. I’ll call him on my way home, and see what’s going on.” 

Scott and Isaac both nodded. “Text us if something’s up,” Scott said. “I don’t have anything on my phone from him, so it can’t be that important.” 

Stiles nodded his agreement and headed to his jeep. He drove home, yawning at the stoplights. He tried to call Derek, but it just kept going to voicemail, so he eventually gave up, after leaving a message that consisted largely of, “The fuck? You call me and then don’t answer? What’s going on, Derek? Call me back.” He left it at that, though, figuring if Derek hadn’t answered his calls, he’d solved whatever problem it was he was having. He turned his attention to the dinner he would be making when he got home: veggie pizza, a compromise between his father’s diet and his need for junk food. He could control what went into a pizza made at home, and make sure it was healthy, while maintaining the illusion of junk. Plus, his tasted better. 

He was debating the merits of throwing on cauliflower and garlic, since both roasted up really well, when he pulled into the driveway and saw Derek’s Camaro already there. Stiles frowned and parked, heading in the house immediately. 

“Derek?” he called, dropping his bag once in the house. Stiles couldn’t hear anything. That wasn’t unusual by itself—Derek was the strong, silent type when he wanted to be. It wasn’t normal for Derek to be in his house and not saying anything, though, ignoring the part where Derek wasn’t too often in his house. “Derek?”

Stiles climbed the stairs after checking the living room, kitchen, laundry room, and even the garage. He was becoming increasingly concerned, and took the steps two at a time. On a hunch, he headed for his room, and was rewarded with Derek. 

Naked. 

Writhing on Stiles’ bed. 

Fingers up his own ass. 

Uh. 

“The fuck?” Stiles yelped, staring in surprised. “Derek??” It took that long for the rest of his sense to catch up, and he gripped the doorframe hard when the wall of scent slammed into him. 

“Needed…fuck, haven’t…Stiles…” Derek was obviously fighting for words, twisting on the bed to face the door and still ride his fingers at the same time. “Stiles, please.” 

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He knew what he was seeing: Derek Hale in the throes of an omega heat. He knew what he was feeling: the answering call of an alpha heat, rising rapidly to flood his body with hormones. What he was struggling with was why Derek, why here, and why now? “Derek?” he asked again, trying to think the fog rapidly occluding his brain.

Derek whined, actually fucking _whined_ , and twisted his whole hand. Stiles could see the flex in his muscles. “Haven’t had a heat in months. Taken suppressants. Stopped taking them. Thought being an alpha would stop the heats.” He swallowed hard. “Didn’t. Didn’t stop it.” 

Stiles was already halfway naked and reaching for Derek’s ankle to slide a gentle hand up his skin. “Power has nothing to do with biology,” he muttered, suddenly understanding that first sentence in his sexuality textbook. “Fuck, Derek, didn’t you pay attention in school?” 

“Huh?” Derek looked confused, dazed, and really, really desperate. “Stiles, fuck…” 

Stiles watched in awe as Derek arched into the hand on his leg. Ah, hell. “You know I’m an alpha, right?” he asked before realizing that yes, Derek knew damned well he was an alpha, or he wouldn’t be here. He could feel his control slipping, though, and he had to make sure Derek had come here for the right reasons before he did anything about it. “Derek, I can do this for you, but I don’t have anything. You could…you could…”

“Don’t care,” Derek whined, rolling over and tucking his knees up under himself. His cheeks spread, and Stiles could see Derek’s glistening hole, opened from Derek’s fingers, and he whined. Dammit. “Came here, knew you could help. I chose this, Stiles, trust that.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure he had a choice except to believe Derek. Any other thought lead to madness. He shucked his clothes, and climbed on the bed. “We are going to have such a talk after this,” he grumbled, and gave in to the pull. He ducked down and dragged his tongue over Derek’s hole, wriggling it inside slowly. He didn’t know what this would be like. He wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never tied with anyone, and he’d never helped an omega through their heat. 

“Stiles. Later. Please, fuck me.” Derek looked back at him, eyes flaring red, but still, somehow, looking completely wrecked and desperate. “Please.”

How was Stiles supposed to argue with that? “All right, big guy,” he said, and knelt upright. He stroked his cock a couple of times, though it wasn’t necessary. It was already hard and leaking, and he could feel his knot at the base, ready to swell and tie them together. He wished he had condoms, but he hadn’t replenished his supply from when he ran out weeks back. So much for using them for easy clean up when he was masturbating. He hoped to God he didn’t actually get Derek pregnant. He was so not ready to be a father. 

“Easy,” he murmured, sliding one hand down the length of Derek’s spine. “I got you. Mine now, let me take care of you.” With his free hand, he held his cock steady and slowly pushed into Derek’s dripping hole. 

They hissed in unison, and then Stiles yelped in surprise when Derek abruptly shoved backwards, impaling himself on Stile’s cock. “Derek! You’re going to hurt yourself, god damn it.” 

“Need. You. To. Fuck. Me. Now.” Derek bit out, punctuating each word with a backwards thrust. 

Stiles grabbed his hips and held him still. “Then let me fuck you,” he growled, and gave in to his instincts. He fucked Derek hard. So hard that his hips slapped against Derek’s ass, and both of them started to turn pink from the force of each thrust. This first round wasn’t going to last very long at all. Stiles knew that was normal. That didn’t mean he wanted Derek to suffer, though. 

He felt his knot starting to swell and thrust in hard, burying himself completely in Derek’s body. He growled again when the stretch of Derek’s body tugged at him, and he reached around to start jacking his lover’s cock. His hips twitched forward, tiny thrusts all he could manage, now that his knot had swelled so completely and locked him tight in Derek’s ass. 

“Stiles,” Derek whined again, rocking back to maximize what he could of Stiles’ movements. “Stiles, please, so close, let me come, please, fuck fuck fuck.” His words degenerated into a quiet litany, then breathy whines. 

Stiles couldn’t hold it any more. He started to come, draping himself completely over Derek’s back and burying his teeth in Derek’s shoulder. His hand worked Derek’s cock until he felt the warm wet, felt Derek’s shudder. His hips kept rocking, the impossibly long orgasm of an alpha with an omega, tied to an omega, feeling a thousand different emotions on top of the pure pleasure of being like this. 

“Stiles,” Derek moaned, his arms giving out. He sagged to the bed, pulling Stiles with him. 

Stiles groaned when the movement tugged on his cock, and carefully rolled them both sideways. They landed on the bed, and Stiles nudged himself a little closer against Derek. They were tied; it wasn’t like he could go far. Still, he wanted to wrap around Derek as much as he could, touch as much as possible, hold his omega and know that he was keeping his mate safe from everything. 

Stiles stilled. His omega? His _mate_? Where had those thoughts come from? He knew that it happened between alphas and omegas, but he also knew it wasn’t usually involuntary. Though…was this involuntary? It wasn’t like he hadn’t fantasized about Derek. Fuck knew how many times his shower time had degenerated into frantically biting his hand so he didn’t embarrass himself by calling out Derek’s name while he jacked off. He was attracted to Derek, and he knew it. 

And wasn’t Derek the one that had shown up here when he felt his heat start? Chosen Stiles, come to him when he needed the safety and care of someone to take him through his heat? There were options Derek could have used, from silicone toys to brothels specifically for taking care of omegas in heat. But Derek had come to him. 

“You think loud,” Derek mumbled, startling Stiles out of his thoughts. 

“What does that even mean?” Stiles asked, absently nuzzling Derek’s neck. There was this little spot behind his ear that smelled so good… 

“Means I can tell you’re thinking instead of enjoying.” Derek reached for Stiles’ hand and brought it up to press against his chest. “We’re tied, I’ve got at least three more days coming, and you should be resting and enjoying being tied with me, not starting to freak out.” 

“Wasn’t freaking out,” Stiles objected weakly, but he knew Derek was right. 

“Were doing something,” Derek muttered, and turned his head enough that he could sort of see Stiles’ face. “What were you thinking? I could hear the change in your heartbeat.” 

Stiles hated this part of werewolves. It drove him crazy. “Was thinking about what this meant,” he mumbled reluctantly. “Why you came here.” 

Derek didn’t answer right away. Stiles honestly didn’t expect him to answer at all. It wasn’t really Derek’s way. He mostly just asked because if there was one thing he was, it was stupidly honest while post-coital. Wait, was it still post coital if he was still buried in Derek’s ass? 

“Because you’re safe,” Derek finally said. “You’re safe and it’s…I had to go somewhere? I needed you.” He was silent for a while, and Stiles thought that he was done. And how the hell was he supposed to respond to that, anyway? He was safe to an alpha werewolf going into an omega heat? Derek _needed_ him? 

“I was going to… before you left for college this summer, I was going to say something,” Derek said slowly. “I refused to be that guy, the one who—“ 

“Hung around a high school, creepy and weird?” Stiles drawled, enjoying the irony. 

Derek huffed. “Asshole. Yes. Fine. It was bad enough that I was there, watching out for the pack. If people knew I was actually interested in a high schooler, even after you turned eighteen, it would have been hell.”

Stiles went still. “You…” He actually processed what Derek was telling him now, and Derek was telling him that he had been attracted to Stiles for a while. And that’s why he came here. And why didn’t any of this make sense. “Are you just telling me this because you’re in heat?” he demanded. 

“Probably,” Derek admitted. “I feel like I have to tell you the truth, given your dick and knot are buried in my ass.” 

Stiles couldn’t really argue with him. There was a lot to be said for that. He also sort of felt that way. “So when you felt the heat coming on, you came here. Because you felt safe. And because you were going to make a move anyway. Right?”

“Something like that,” Derek mumbled. He sighed and rocked his hips backwards, shifting Stiles’ knot inside of him and making them both moan. “I knew…I could smell that you…” He groaned and rolled his hips back again. 

Stiles kind of thought he was losing Derek to his heat again, but he really wanted to know what Derek had to say. He nuzzled at Derek’s throat. “Smell that I what, Derek?” he asked. His knot finished deflating then, and he slid out of Derek’s body with a wet little plop. 

Derek whined. “Smell that you wanted me, Stiles, it’s starting again, please, no more words.” 

Stiles slid down the bed, nosing at Derek’s ass to do what he wanted to do before. This time, it wasn’t just Derek’s slick he could taste, it was his own come, too, and somehow, that was hotter. He dragged his tongue over the loose ring of muscle, and wriggled it inside, slowly fucking Derek with it. 

“Stiles, fuck,” Derek moaned, rolling onto his front. He started to slowly fuck against the mattress, rubbing his cock against the sheets and pushing his ass back against Stiles’ face. “Stiles, more, need your knot again, need it. Fucking knot me again, tie me, breed me, god damn.” 

Stiles growled, his own body responding to the scent of Derek and his words. His cock was hardening again. During an omega’s heat was probably the only time he could get hard again this fast, even with his young man’s refractory period. The pheromones filling his room were what did it. His body’s response to his omega was a damned biological miracle. He continued to lick his come out of Derek, working a couple of fingers into his ass to hold him open. 

“Stiles,” Derek whimpered. The tone of his voice was absolutely an omega in desperate need, an omega whose heat was roiling through him and stealing all rational thought. “Fuck me, tie me, claim me, god damn it, Stiles, just give it to me, fucking _please_.”

It was the please that did it. Stiles surged up and slid his cock into Derek in a fluid movement he’d never be able to repeat if his life depended on it. Derek’s relieved sound made him smirk, and he braced himself over his omega. One hand on either side of Derek’s torso, just under his arms, Stiles rolled his hips, fucking Derek slow and deep. 

Each roll of his hips pressed Derek’s into the bed, and rubbed his cock against the sheets. Stiles felt the shudders and thrilled to them. It satisfied something primal in his soul to know that he was doing this for his partner, that he was relieving his omega’s heat like this. 

“Do you want to come again?” Stiles asked, ducking his head and whispering into Derek’s ear. He curled his tongue around the shell of the other man’s ear, teasing gently. “Would you like that, or do you _need_ it?” 

“Need you to come inside of me,” Derek moaned. “Don’t care if I come, just need your knot, need your come, need you to fill me up.” 

Stiles growled and bit Derek’s ear, making him groan. 

“Fuck me, Stiles. Fuck me and knot me and breed me. Don’t fucking care if I get…I don’t care. I’ll carry your children. All of them. Every one of them. Don’t want to ever share you. Your mine, came to you because you’re _mine_ , Stiles, fucking give it to me.”

Stiles was surprised at how erotic he found the stream of babbled words falling from Derek’s mouth. Babies? No, no way was he ready to be a dad, but suddenly, he wanted to caress Derek’s swollen belly, kiss it, soothe the itch of stretched skin, and know that _he did that_. “Mine, Derek. All. Fucking. Mine.” He grunted as he thrust deep and hard into Derek, biting at his shoulder. His knot started to swell again, and he fought the urge to bury himself inside Derek again already, in favor of fucking him longer. 

Every time his knot caught at the rim of Derek’s ass, he whined and tried to shove his ass back to capture Stiles’ knot. 

Stiles grinned, swirling his tongue over the skin captured between his teeth, and didn’t let Derek have what he was so desperately after. He wanted to draw this one out as long as he could. He knew that this was just the warm up, that tomorrow and the next day would be brutally intense, that they would spend pretty much the entire time tied or sleeping, or even tied while sleeping. 

“Stiles!” Derek whined. “Stop being an asshole.” 

Stiles laughed and let go of Derek’s shoulder. “You love it,” he growled in Derek’s ear, and slammed his hips forward, pushing his knot past the resistance of Derek’s hole to tie them together once again. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Derek groaned, arching back into it. They moved together, tiny little movements of hips. Stiles was coming again, filling Derek, nibbling at the spot he couldn’t seem to leave alone on Derek’s neck. “Stiles…” 

“Mine, Derek. You’re fucking mine, and I’m not letting you go,” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s neck. “I hope that’s what you were planning on when you came here, because that’s what you’re getting.” 

Derek’s only answer was a moan and another rock back of his hips. Stiles took it as understanding and acquiescence, and settled in to wait out this tie draped over Derek’s back, pressing him down into the mattress. He wasn’t moving for anything.

~*~

At some point around hour four, Stiles managed to regain enough mental capacity to mass text everyone. _house off limits. Derek safe. With me. Will text you when over_. Lydia got, _Derek fucking omega. Keep them away_ in addition, which immediately prompted six return messages ranging from _you’re an idiot if you didn’t know that already_ to _text 911 if you need help/food/water_.

The text to his father was slightly more complicated. Years ago, when Stiles started to go through puberty, and they’d realized he was an alpha, the three of them—his dad, his mom, and Stiles—had sat down and made up a plan. Even while he was squirming with embarrassment, Stiles had recognized the need. His parents were an alpha/omega pair, and to have either of them in the house if Stiles ever had an omega in heat around could be disastrous if they were unprepared. 

Years after the fact, even with Stiles’ mother gone, they hadn’t altered the plan. Stiles wondered if it was mental, that they both knew it was even more important now that there was no steadying influence on his father. It didn’t matter really, as far as that went. What mattered was that Stiles keep his dad out of the house. _Code Red. Code Red. Derek Hale of all fucking people. Scott knows, go to McCalls. Love you._

His father’s response back had been a short and simple _I love you. Be safe_. Stiles stared at that text for a long time, curled tight around a sleeping Derek. Trust his father to be the most concerned about his son’s safety instead of his own. He really loved his dad. 

Stiles finally thumbed off the screen and nuzzled into Derek’s neck for a long moment. Derek had been asleep for an hour now. Stiles knew that they’d be lucky if they got a full night’s sleep this first day, because they sure as hell wouldn’t nights two or three. 

That was the shittiest part about heats. They didn’t care if you hadn’t eaten in twelve hours, were an insomniac going on hour forty-five of little to no sleep, or if you had other people in the house with you. The chemical change hit your body without remorse, and you were completely helpless in the face of it 

Most people had plans in place. Some were like the Stilinski Family Plan for Errant Omega Relations (People thought Stiles got his sense of humor from his father; he didn’t. He got it from his mother). Others were pantries full of easily cooked and/or consumed foods, speed dials programmed with family and friends that could be put on alert to come rescue kids who were left to fend for themselves while their parents were locked in days and days of fucking, even friends who could safely peek in and make sure no one had died of exhaustion, dehydration, or starvation. 

Lydia was apparently Stiles’ person for that this time. He blessed every beautiful strand of red hair on her head. He also knew he had to do as much prep work for himself as possible. As loathe as he was to move, to let go of his omega—fuck, they were going to have to talk about that, but it sounded really, really good—he had to make sure they’d survive this. 

Stiles kissed Derek’s neck one last time, and began the slow process of extricating himself from Derek’s body. It took him a while; they were tangled together pretty well, but he eventually managed it without waking Derek up. He snagged his boxers from the floor and padded to the kitchen to begin his prep. 

A while later, he was straining a huge pot of pasta while sauce bubbled on the stove, and a pile of veggies lay like so many matchsticks, waiting to be packed into containers. Stiles had gone for fruits and vegetables for quick, sustainable energy, pasta for much needed carbs, and, the eternal optimist, he’d gone for some sauce he’d made and jarred weeks ago, intending to get at least one full meal into his werewolf before they were once again in the throes of Derek’s heat. 

Stiles portioned out the pasta carefully, considering what he knew about Biology and Derek in particular. They’d already tied four times in this heat. Each one had been a little more intense than the last, and then Derek had finally fallen asleep. Stiles knew that it would be like this for the whole heat, though with varying degrees of intensity. The first day was usually four hour cycles of the urge to mate and rut followed by four hours of almost unavoidable sleeping, lather, rinse, repeat. He had maybe two and a half hours left before Derek would be insatiable again. 

After the first day, the need to fuck and tie would ramp up exponentially until they would only fall asleep due to exhaustion. They would fall asleep tied and wake up tied because somewhere in their sleep, one or both of them would make sure Stiles’ knot stayed swelled up and snuggled firmly inside Derek’s ass. 

Stiles shuddered involuntarily at the thought. He had to be tired, if he was thinking about snuggling inside anyone’s ass. That was such a weird mental image. He took one bowl of his cooked pasta and started dumping in vegetables, spices, and dressing, making up a pasta salad that would serve well just stored in a cooler in his bedroom. 

Once it was done, he moved on to packing up everything else, grabbing granola bars out of the cabinet, fresh fruit from their various storage locations, and packing everything up to be taken back up to his bedroom. Once the cooler was ready, Stiles turned to the stove, turning off the gently simmering sauce and dumping in the reserved pasta. 

His stirring was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Curious about whom the hell would text him now, he picked it up and saw another text from Lydia: _care package on your porch. Don’t say I never did anything for you. Be safe, idiot_. 

Stiles blinked, looking up toward the door. He hadn’t heard a sound, and how the hell had Lydia gotten a care package together that quickly, anyway? He glanced and the clock, and snorted to realize that it wasn’t that quick at all. He’d been cooking for over an hour, closer to two. For Lydia, that was glacial. He headed for the front door to see what she left. 

The box on the porch was fairly nondescript, just medium sized cardboard. It was enough to make him want to rip it open out of curiosity, though. He almost wished it had writing or something on it so that he was less insatiably curious about it. And then realized that _the box was for him, he could open it_. Hours of sex and alpha-urges had really fucked with his head. 

He kicked the door shut and carried the box into the kitchen. He yelped and flailed when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Fortunately, Derek’s were reflexes were better than his, and he caught the box that went flying when Stiles flailed. 

“Dude!” Stiles said, dramatically clutching his chest. “You give me a heart attack, I can’t help you through the rest of this.”

“Thought you left,” Derek grumbled, staring at Stiles with a mixture of terror and frustration in his eyes. “Heard the door, thought…” 

Stiles gaped at him. “How could you think I’d leave you?” he asked, even as he grabbed the box from Derek and dropped it on the floor so he could pull his omega into his arms. The way Derek burrowed against him immediately, pressing his face into Stiles’ neck, arms wrapping tightly around Stiles’ chest and waist, told him everything. So many people had left Derek in his life, at important times, at _all_ , that of course he was terrified. 

“Not leaving, big guy,” he murmured, working his hand into Derek’s hair and rubbing gently. “Once I tie an omega, I stay with them for the whole thing.” 

“Never tied anyone before,” Derek mumbled. 

“Yeah, well, that should tell you something,” Stiles told him. “C’mon. There’s food over here. You need to eat, and I need to see what Lydia thought would make a good care package.” 

Derek froze for just a moment. “Lydia sent us a care package?” 

“Mmmm, I told everyone to stay away, and told her to keep them away. Didn’t really think you wanted any of your betas seeing you begging for me to breed you,” Stiles said, trying very, very hard to keep the smirk out of his voice. It was surprisingly easy to do. He didn’t want the pack to see Derek like that either. It wasn’t shameful, but it _was_ private, and Stiles wanted to keep it all to himself.

“No,” Derek said quietly. “No, I don’t want them to see that.” He nuzzled Stiles’ neck a little more, and then took what looked like an incredibly deliberate step back. “You said food?” 

“Pasta with red sauce,” Stiles said, letting Derek get away with hiding for now. There’d be time enough for that. “Grab a bowl. I’ll get forks.” He nodded toward the bowls on the counter, and headed for the counter. And then realized Derek was naked. “Dude, seriously? So worried you couldn’t even grab underwear?” 

“Feels weird,” Derek mumbled, scooping his food into a bowl. 

Stiles shook his head. Of course. He’d completely forgotten about that particular part of a heat: skin sensitivity. He picked up some forks, handed one to Derek, and filled his own bowl. He put it on the table and went for the box, bringing it back to the table. He silently blessed Lydia for not taping it shut, and pulled at the flaps to open it up. 

“Oh. Hey, look.” Right on top was a couple of pairs of silk boxers. He handed one to Derek just before he sat down. “Put those on. They shouldn’t irritate your skin, and it’ll keep us from having to clean up any more messes.” 

Derek blushed—actually fucking _blushed_ —and took the underwear from Stiles. He slid it on, making an odd sound that Stiles wasn’t sure he could describe. It was somewhere between a squeak and a moan, and it was definitely pure pleasure. Right. Silk equals good for a werewolf in heat. Mental note made. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and sat down, digging into his food. 

Stiles shook his head and unpacked the rest of the box. Energy bars. Packs of pre-made Instant Breakfast. A massive box of condoms and a knotted dildo. And a note wrapped around said dildo that said, “Safe for werewolf noses, Jackson hates you.” 

“Well, nice to know my death will come at the hand of a packmate,” Stiles muttered, showing the note to Derek. 

Derek read it and snorted. “He won’t kill you. And you can tease him about having one himself. I’ve seen it.” 

Stiles stared at him. “Okay, one, why? He’s beta, not omega. He doesn’t need it. Two, how the hell do you know? How…when did you see it?” 

Derek smirked. “Don’t have to be alpha or omega to want certain things,” he pointed out. “When this is all over, you should try that for yourself. And I was at his house, and he knocked it out of a drawer when he was looking for something.” 

Stiles blinked rapidly at that. “I’m…just letting that go. It’s safer for my sanity.” He set the dildo next to the box of condoms. 

“We’re not using those,” Derek said, jabbing his fork at the prophylactics. “Not.” 

Stiles blinked. “Why not? You don’t…” he trailed off, a little horrified by the fact that Derek might _want_ to get pregnant. 

“No,” Derek said, “but the smell of them…I can’t. I can’t tolerate it right now.” He looked up at Stiles for a moment before looking away. “If you want…” he trailed off, hunching in on himself, and speeding up his eating. 

Stiles felt like he’d just kicked a puppy, and he wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. “Derek, if you don’t want them, we won’t use them. This heat is about you, keeping you as comfortable as possible, and making sure you survive this with your pride, health, and sanity intact. You just surprised me was all. I’m not…I’m not ready to be a dad, but if that’s what you wanted out of this…I’d work on being okay with it.” He couldn’t say he’d be okay with it, because he wouldn’t, exactly, but at the same time, he couldn’t really think of anyone he’d be willing to do this with at all. 

Derek didn’t look up, but his shoulders did go down a little bit. “This is good,” he said, changing the subject. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, stifling a sigh. They were going to have to talk about this, definitely. He’d fucked up, and he needed to fix it. Just…not right now. “How are you feeling? Sore?”

Derek shook his head. “No. Wolf healing is helping, I think. Feeling more…open than I should, but I don’t hurt, and I think that’s because you’re…uh. You’re careful, too.” He peeked up at Stiles through his lashes. “Thank you for that.”

Stiles felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Somehow, that look from Derek, one he’d never expected to see, was arrestingly gorgeous. Too, he’d never expected gratitude. 

To be fair, he’d never expected an alpha werewolf to be fucking himself on his fingers in the middle of his bed before, either, but today was just full of surprises. 

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly. “You think you can handle a shower?” 

Derek nodded slowly, and finished his pasta. He nudged the bowl away. “That was really good,” he said again. “I probably don’t…Probably don’t have much time left, so a shower would be a good idea.” 

Stiles nodded. “Head upstairs. Turn on the water, get it going, while I put this stuff in my room. I’m not letting you shower by yourself right now. I don’t want you to slip and fall because you headed into another cycle or something.” Prompted by some inner urge for complete honesty, and the brief flash of disappointment he saw in Derek’s eyes before Derek looked away, he quickly added, “and because I just don’t want to let you out of my sight. I’m feeling a little possessive.”

Derek gave him a little smile, and got up from the table, heading to do what Stiles had asked. Stiles used the few precious moments to gather himself, get the dishes in the sink, and carry the cooler up the stairs to his bedroom. He stopped there, taking a couple of steadying breaths, and tried to calm his mind. He’d found it harder than expected to refrain from planting himself in Derek’s lap and claiming his mouth in a possessive kiss. To just plain claim Derek. He’d wonder at how possessive he was feeling, but…well, he was an alpha in the middle of a heat with an omega, and he’d already accepted the current desperate need to claim Derek as _his_ omega. 

Even if it didn’t make a lot of sense to him just yet, it made enough sense that he could reconcile the urge. If not reconcile, then at least shove to the back of his head to deal with later. Stiles took another deep breath and headed for his bathroom, where Derek was testing the water with his hand. He was naked again, his back to the door. That, all by itself, told Stiles a hell of a lot more about how much Derek trusted him than anything else. It was weird; Derek showing up here to ride out his heat was displaying an immense out of trust, and Stiles recognized and accepted it. Being allowed to enter a room with Derek’s back to the door was somehow more of a punch to the gut of understanding than anything else could have been. 

“Is it ready?” Stiles asked, to cover his momentary mental lapse into the land of what the fuck. He opened the linen closet and grabbed out a towel for Derek. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. “It’s ready.” 

“Then get in, you idiot,” Stiles said, shucking his boxers and crowding up behind Derek to herd him into the shower. There wasn’t a whole lot of room, it being a simple bathtub-shower combination, but they didn’t really need that much room. Not with Stiles pressed up against Derek’s back, nuzzling at the back of his neck. 

Derek let his head fall forward, making a soft sound Stiles took to be contentment. They stood there, letting the spray wash over them. Stiles could feel tension slowly leech out of his body, shoulders come down, and muscles start to uncoil. 

“Shhhh,” Stiles murmured, reaching around Derek for the washcloth and bottle of unscented Dove he’d taken to using as the one least likely to make a werewolf snarl at him. “Shhh, just let me do this for you,” he said, and slowly started washing Derek. 

He took his time, cleaning every inch of Derek’s skin. He turned Derek around so that they were face to face, which made Derek growl quietly at him, because it meant Stiles wasn’t pressed against his back any more. 

“Easy, Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a grin, which had the desired effect of making Derek snarl again. “Need to get you clean all over. You’ll feel better.” He worked the soapy cloth down one long, muscular arm, over each individual finger, and back up again, to repeat the process. 

“Already feel better,” Derek said so quietly that Stiles almost missed it over the sound of the shower. He looked up, a little surprised, and saw the warm, shy look on Derek’s face. He didn’t even think about what he did next; he just acted on instinct. He kissed Derek. 

Derek immediately responded, planting his hands on Stiles’ hips and kissing him back. It started out soft, almost tentative. It was as though they were both making sure this was okay, that they both wanted it. It didn’t take long, though, for Stiles to flick his tongue against Derek’s mouth, to ask for his omega to open to him and let him in. 

Derek did with a soft sigh, and Stiles took full advantage of it. He cupped the back of Derek’s head and tilted his head slightly, licking into Derek’s mouth. Derek’s response was gratifyingly eager, and they kissed until they were both breathless. Derek nosed at Stiles’ cheek while they caught their breaths, and whined softly. “Starting again,” he whispered. 

Stiles immediately kissed Derek again, swallowing his small sounds, while he reached down to stroke Derek’s cock. Derek pushed his hips forward, begging for more. Stiles laughed into Derek’s mouth and gave it to him, tightening his fingers and speeding up his hand a bit. 

Derek squirmed and tried to move with Stiles, trying to get more speed, more friction. He was rapidly succumbing to the rising need inside him, that much was clear. His little sounds of need were slowly turning to little sounds of frustration when he couldn’t get what he wanted out of Stiles. His hand left Stiles’ hip and crept around behind him. 

“No,” Stiles said, stopping Derek’s hand. “Not yet.” 

Derek whined. “I need it, Stiles. I need something.” 

“I know,” Stiles said soothingly, nosing against Derek’s cheek. “I know you do, but we’re almost done in the shower, and it’ll be so much sweeter if you can make yourself wait.” 

Derek whined again, but listened. His hand went back to Stiles’ hip and gripped tightly. Stiles was pretty sure he was going to have a bruise there before this was all done. 

“Good,” Stiles praised, and quickly scrubbed himself down. It was…harder than it should have been, given the fact that Derek couldn’t keep his hands off Stiles, but they got there in the end. The last thing Stiles washed was Derek’s ass, just to make sure there wasn’t any question of keeping up as much hygiene as possible. 

Derek thrust back against Stiles’ fingers, moaning deep in his chest. “Stiles,” he ground out. “Fucking…c’mon, please.” 

“Not with a damned soapy cloth, Derek,” Stiles said firmly. He rinsed the washcloth and both of their bodies, keeping his movements quick and efficient. It didn’t matter, though; Derek was still panting with desperation by the time the water went off. 

Stiles stepped out on the bath mat first, reaching for his towel and quickly scrubbing it over his face and hair before wrapping it around his waist. He grabbed the towel he pulled out for Derek and used it on him. He didn’t think Derek was capable any more, twitching and moaning as he was at Stiles’ hands in the terry material. 

“You are unreal,” Stiles murmured, his cock throbbing with each little sound Derek made. It was incredible, how fast he responded to his omega, but even more than that, how much he responded to _Derek_. “I just…god damn.” He draped the towel around Derek’s neck to catch stray drips from his hair, since he was positive Derek wouldn’t be able to tolerate the towel wrapped around his waist. He kissed Derek hard, making his werewolf moan hungrily, and said, “Bed. I’ll be right there.” 

Derek stumbled out of the bathroom while Stiles did his best to set a new land speed record drying himself off. He had his towel hung up less than a minute after sending Derek off, hung it up, and nearly tripped over his feet in his effort to get to his bedroom. 

And Derek already hand his fingers up his ass again.

“Derek,” Stiles snapped sharply, making Derek stop and stare at him, wide eyed. “I told you to wait.” 

“But I needed…Stiles, I told you…” Derek stumbled over his words, caught both by his heat and by his surprised at Stile’s forcefulness. 

“I know you need, and I know what you told me, and I also know what _I_ told _you_. You’re an alpha werewolf and I know and accept that. I really fucking appreciate it, in fact.” Stiles stalked across the room, making Derek unconsciously move backward, moving his hand so he could lay flat on the bed, blinking up at Stiles with astonishment. And, Stiles was surprised to see, arousal. Huh. No, focus. “I’m the alpha now, Derek. I’m in charge.”

Derek made a choking sound. “Did you just…” 

“Yup,” Stiles said, stubbornly keeping the grin off his face. “I’m your alpha, Derek. You chose me.”

Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just looked up at Stiles, studying his face. Finally, he nodded slowly. “My alpha,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

The apology startled Stiles, but he rolled with it. “You’re forgiven,” he said, and leaned down to kiss Derek. “Now…I believe you started something that I intend to finish.” He felt Derek smirk against his mouth, and let himself smirk, too. They’d just settled something between them. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he appreciated the hell out of it.

~*~

It was hours later before they surfaced again. Derek’s heat cycled down again, leaving him curled against Stiles’ chest. He should be sleeping; they both should, Stiles knew, but he didn’t push it. He threaded his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“That one lasted longer,” he finally said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“…itchy,” Derek finally said. “Under my skin, where everything is crawling, making me feel like I need to just…do this now, now, now, don’t stop. It’s eased off, but it’s still there.” He rubbed his cheek against Stiles’ chest, scratching the skin. 

Stiles responded by scratching lightly at Derek’s scalp. “Think this is going to last longer than two or three days?” 

Derek shrugged. “Dunno, but I don’t think so. Isn’t the first heat off suppressants shorter?” 

“And more intense, yeah,” Stiles said, remembering that from his class. “So, probably a max of three days.” He stroked his fingers through Derek’s hair, considering. “You said earlier that you thought being an alpha would stop your heats, so you stopped taking your suppressants. You’ve been an alpha for years now. Why didn’t you stop before?” 

Derek was quiet for a long while. “Never felt safe,” he finally murmured. “It’s a loss of control, and I just…never…” He didn’t look at Stiles at all, didn’t move. 

Stiles scratched lightly at Derek’s scalp. “But you felt safe now?” He thought for a moment, trying to do mental math. “When did you stop taking your pills?” 

Derek didn’t answer. Stiles waited for it, listened hard just in case he whispered it. Derek just didn’t answer. And that, in itself, was an answer. “You stopped taking them four months ago, didn’t you?” 

Four months ago was Stiles’ eighteenth birthday. Four months ago, Stiles stopped being a jail sentence. Four months ago, Stiles had become a safe haven. Even if people tended to look the other way when it came to alphas and omegas and statutory things, as long as it wasn’t forced or coerced, Derek was, of course, sensitive to the laws. 

“I thought about it before that. I knew that I should talk to you first, that we should…” Derek trailed off awkwardly. 

“Not show up, writhing naked on my bed, fucking yourself with your fingers?” Stiles said dryly. 

Derek winced and started to tense up. Stiles gently slapped his head. 

“Stop,” Stiles said firmly. “I didn’t say it bothered me. It was…honestly, it was one of the hottest sights I have ever seen. I just would have liked some warning. And before you get grumpy, yes, I know that’s what you tried to provide. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

Derek turned his face into Stiles’ chest and took a deep breath. “It’s okay. It came on fast, and…I never…I never gave you any….” He was stuttering again, but this time, Stiles could tell it was from embarrassment, not rising heat. 

Stiles let him hide. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to have this conversation. Feelings were awkward and messy and talking about them usually got him hurt. At the same time, they both needed to get this out in the open. Though maybe in the middle of a heat wasn’t the place. Not that they had a choice… So, instead, Stiles did what Stiles did best. 

“So, we’re being honest right now, right? Like. Honesty is the most important thing we can talk about right now, yeah? So let’s talk about this. D’you know, I’ve had a crush on you almost since I met you? Not when I thought you were a killer, and I’m really sorry about that, by the way. Dunno if I ever properly apologized for thinking that you’d killed Laura. I wanted you. Use to think about you. You turned me on just by glaring at your betas. It’s more than that, though. You care for them. You really, genuinely care for them. 

“That is so hot. Like. You’d do anything for them, including kill for them, and you’re so damned protective, and you kinda suck at being an alpha sometimes, but you’re getting better. You really are. You’ve gotten a lot better ever since you stopped trying to control so much and let their talents come forward. And that’s the thing. You try. You learn, you let them learn, you try together. You’ve made…a family.” Stiles tugged gently at Derek’s hair, coaxing him to look up. “They love you because you’ve made yourself their big brother, because you look out for them, because you love them. And that’s why I—“ Stiles finally choked to a stop, unable to say anything else with those green-hazel-gold eyes looking at him. 

Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just studied Stiles’ face—which, how was the angle even comfortable? Stiles wondered, and started to shift, to roll them both so that they could be face to face. 

Derek stopped them, though, immobilizing Stiles by rolling on top of him and straddling his hips. He braced his hands on either side of Stiles’ head and stared down at him. He studied Stiles for a long moment, and Stiles tried not to think about how Derek had settled so their cocks were snuggled right together, that they were both getting hard again, that Derek was giving him a look, oh god. 

“You fell in love with me,” Derek finally said, sounding a little surprised. “You…why didn’t you say?” 

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you?” 

“…Point,” Derek muttered. “This isn’t. This isn’t just seeing me through my heat, is it?” 

And there it was. Two cycles, nearly a full day, and close to three years of tension later, there was the million dollar question. Was this just seeing Derek through his heat? 

Stiles thought he was going to break both their hearts. 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. He reached up to touch Derek’s face, but Derek flinched back. “No, stop,” Stiles said, distressed. He didn’t try and force Derek to accept his touch, but oh god, he had to try and explain. “I don’t mean that I don’t want it to be more. I just confessed to wanting you for years, what part of that makes it sound like…” he huffed a sigh and tried again. “Derek, you and I both know that this is more complicated than asking if this is more than just seeing you through your heat, because we both know that it is. It’s keeping you safe and sane and healthy and making sure you come through with as little amount of pain and discomfort as possible, but also making sure that you don’t…that you don’t do anything stupid. Making decisions right now is such a bad idea. You know that. It’s one of the first things they teach us: don’t make big decisions during a heat cycle.” 

Derek hadn’t moved, but he also _hadn’t moved_. He stared down at Stiles like he wasn’t sure if he felt betrayed or not. “What if I want to?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. 

Stiles wanted so badly to say he was okay with that, wanted to say that he could do that, throw caution to the wind, let’s fucking go for it. A huge part of him wanted to say that, because to have that with Derek, to have his…everything… was pretty much everything he’d wanted since he figured out that was a thing he could want. 

He also knew that neither of them was thinking clearly. They were both in the middle of a hormone haze, however quiescent it felt right now. They’d just spent the last day desperately and wantonly fucking in a dozen different positions, locked together by Stiles’ knot for long periods of time, Derek relying on Stiles to keep him from quite literally going insane from the buildup of hormones and desperate need. They were mentally linked during this time. It was normal to want to have that forever. 

But…could they? Yeah, so he’d never said anything to Derek before this partially because he’d been underage, but if he was honest, he knew damned well that they’d fight. Derek constantly made important decisions that affected people around him without ever talking to anyone about them. Stiles got frustrated with people more often than most people knew (Derek included). Yes, it was usually because people couldn’t keep up with him, and that wasn’t a problem with Derek, but it wasn’t _all_ of it. 

It was the parts that it wasn’t that were making Stiles hesitate now. 

“I want to,” he started to say slowly, carefully. “I want to say fuck everything, you’re mine, and you’ll be mine until the day I die. I don’t want to share you. I want to keep you as mine, keep you in my bed, see you through every heat, love you every night, morning, and whenever I can convince you to sneak off for a quickie. I want to fight over what brand of pasta we buy and whether the Mets are the best team or not. I want to have kids with you someday, and watch our pack finally pull their heads out of their asses and become the people we know they are.” He looked Derek in the eye as he spoke, willing him to know that Stiles was telling the complete and utter truth, no matter how much it was hurting him. 

“I’m afraid, though. I’m afraid that I can’t be what you need, that you can’t be what I need. I’m afraid that we won’t work, that us not working will hurt the pack.” Stiles took a deep breath. “I’m just…I’m scared that we’re going to destroy each other, and in doing so, we’ll destroy everyone else.” 

The look on Derek’s face was hurting Stiles’ soul, and he wanted so much to wrap himself around his werewolf and kiss him and cuddle him and reassure him, but he couldn’t move. 

“Do you think it’s worth the risk?” Derek finally asked. The raw openness of his voice was tearing at Stiles. “Do you think that what we could have is worth risking things? Because while I agree that we could do that…I think we are. I think we’re worth the risk, Stiles.”

What the hell was Stiles supposed to say? He wanted to agree. Hell, he did agree. But he couldn’t stop hearing Mr. Ashland’s voice in his head: “Don’t make big decisions while you’re in the middle of a heat cycle, whether you’re the alpha or the omega. Don’t do it because you’re not thinking clearly, no matter how clearheaded you feel. Save the decisions for later, when the surges are gone and you’ve both slept. Then, if it still seems like a good idea or a bad idea or whatever kind of idea it seemed like in the throes of the heat, then you should make that decision.” 

He took a deep breath. He wished Derek would stop pushing, though he kind of got why he wouldn’t. “I do think we’re worth the risk,” Stiles said slowly. “I do, even if I’m scared to death of the potential for disaster.” 

Derek leaned down and kissed him then, a sweet kiss, full of promise. Stiles returned it, sliding his fingers back into that thick, dark hair. He couldn’t stop himself. He loved it. He wanted this so badly. He forced himself to be honest with them both, though. He pulled away, keeping Derek close by the hand in his hair, but far enough that he could speak. 

“I’m not making a decision on this until after you’re through your heat, Derek,” he said as firmly as he could. “I want us to be in the right place with this, nothing clouding our vision or ability to be rational. When we can both think that way, then we can make a decision.”

Derek tried to pull away, eyes betraying the pain his face wouldn’t show, but Stiles kept him still. “No, stop,” Stiles said. “Derek, listen to me. I want this. I want this so much that I want to wait to make sure that we’re right. I want this so much that I don’t want to fuck it up, and I just want a little more patience from you. Please?” 

Derek sort of collapsed, then, folding himself down against Stiles’ chest and tucking his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck. Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek, still stroking through Derek’s hair. He nuzzled Derek’s shoulder. 

“I wish I could give you the answer you want,” Stiles murmured. “I wish I could.” 

Derek shook his head slightly, and Stiles let it go for now. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do otherwise. He took a deep breath. “We need to eat something and sleep while we can,” he pointed out. 

“Sleep,” Derek mumbled, sounding like he was halfway there. 

Stiles had no idea how he was comfortable, but he went with it. He could always move them later. “Sleep,” he agreed, closing his eyes and stroking Derek’s back slowly.

~*~

When Stiles woke up again, it was to find Derek fucking himself on Stiles’ cock. “How th’ hell did I sleep through that?” he asked muzzily, watching Derek work himself down, grinding once he bottomed out. Derek started a devastating slow roll of his hips that was almost too much for Stiles. “Jesus,” he groaned. He slid his hands up Derek’s thighs, pausing at his hips to feel the muscle movement, marvel in the flex of abdominal muscles. “You are fucking gorgeous.”

Derek stared down at him, eyes glazed and dark with lust and need. His mouth was open slightly. He didn’t answer, just nudged one of Stiles’ hands down until it was over his cock. 

Stiles started to grin. “Did you need something?” he asked, but he didn’t tease. He wrapped his fingers around Derek’s cock and started to stroke. He kept his movements slow and smooth, and his tempo matched Derek’s. It felt really fucking good to have Derek’s tight, heat-slick ass clenching around him while he did the same for Derek’s cock. 

They were able to keep it up for a while before Stiles felt his knot start to grow again. He sped his hand up, giving Derek more friction the same time that he nudged his hips up a couple of times, warning Derek what was coming. 

Derek’s mouth fell open a little more, and his legs spread out. It had a twofold effect: it gave him more balance straddling Stiles’ body, and it made him sink farther down onto Stiles’ cock. 

Stiles’ swelling knot slipped inside, and almost as though it was a trigger, it filled, locking Stiles into Derek’s body once again. Stiles groaned as he started to come, long, if shallow, rolls of his hips to fuck Derek deep while Stiles came with pulse after pulse of semen filling Derek’s ass. 

Derek groaned, his head falling back. He came, too, covering Stiles’ hand with pearly white spunk. He didn’t stop moving, though, still grinding, rolling his hips in the same rhythm, drawing out the pleasure for both of them. 

Stiles couldn’t look away from Derek’s throat, the line of it, how gorgeous Derek was like this. Possessiveness surged up through him, and he knew, when this was all over, he wasn’t letting go. Rationality be damned, he wasn’t letting go for anything. 

He planted his feet and pushed Derek back a little until his back was resting against Stiles’ thighs. Derek looked at stiles, blinking in stupefied confusion. “Stiles?” 

“Mine,” Stiles said. He dragged his hand down, using Derek’s semen as a crude lube, fondling Derek’s balls, and then back to where he could feel his knot stretching Derek. He pressed his fingers against the stressed muscle, growling a little when the pressure against his knot sent a jolt of pleasure through him. 

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Stiles asked, captivated by the helpless shifting of Derek’s hips. “You need to know that I’m in there, that you’re well and truly caught, tied, and claimed. Your ass is stretched as wide as it can go, and you can’t fucking stop teasing yourself with it.” 

Derek whimpered. “Yours,” he forced out. It was obviously a struggle. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe normally when all he wanted to do was pant and grind. “This is why….this is….Stiles, this is why I want to stay.” 

Stiles made a soft noise, telling Derek he heard him. He continued to tease and torture Derek’s hole. “I know,” he said, his own voice rough. “We’re good together. We’re amazing together. I mean. I haven’t slept with many people, but I can tell you that it wasn’t anything like this, even without the tying. Without the…everything.” He dragged his eyes away from where his body was locked inside Derek’s, and up at Derek’s face. “I told you I wanted it, Derek. I just don’t want to commit to something when we’re both really, really not rational.” 

Derek whined again and folded forward. It had to hurt, the way it tugged on Stiles’ cock telling him it was pulling at Derek’s hole, but Derek didn’t make any noise or indication of protest. He just tucked himself down against Stiles’ chest, face pressed against Stiles’ neck again. 

Stiles sighed and wrapped his arms around Derek. “I know, big guy. I know.”

~*~

_you guys doing ok?_

_Hanging in. probably less than half a day left. Fed him while tied last night._

_Don’t need to know your kinky perversions._

_Fuck you, lyds. Was trying to reassure you that we’re not dying of starvation._

_I know, idiot. Trying to make you laugh. More worried about dehydration, though. Drink water._

_Have been. Lots of mini water bottles stocked in the house._

_Good. If you can’t text the all clear, I’ll give you another two days before I come check on you. Or until I get a 911._

Stiles’ snort of soft amusement disturbed Derek, who was once again sleeping curled up on Stiles’s chest, tied together. The hand not holding his phone stroked long, gentle lines down Derek’s back, soothing him. “Shhhh, sleep,” he murmured. He should be taking his own advice; they’d been fucking nonstop for hours, caught in the height of Derek’s heat. As it was, he wasn’t sure how he was managing to have a coherent conversation with Lydia, but Lydia never applied to any normal rules of anything. 

Derek quieted, nuzzling into Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles gave him a little bit longer to settle into deeper sleep, stroking his back rhythmically. He looked back at his phone, surprised to see another message from Lydia. He hadn’t even felt it vibrate. 

_your dad is fine. I think something may be going on between him and Mrs. McCall._

_Are you telling me that to weird me out? Because Scott and I have been trying to get them together for years._

_Telling you so you know it may finally be working. Should have brought home an in-heat omega ages ago._

_I didn’t bring him home, he came to me._

_It was a figure of speech. Don’t fuck it up, stiles._

_How can I fuck up a heat? Okay, don’t answer that, I know how._

_Good, but I wasn’t talking about the heat. I was talking about hurting the werewolf that’s been in love with you since the beginning._

_…did everyone know but me?_

_No, I doubt anyone but me figured it out. You know how slow the rest of our pack is._

_Point, Einstein. Still. You knew and didn’t tell me?_

_Wasn’t my place. You’re ignoring the point, though. Don’t hurt him. He loves you._

Stiles stared at the phone for a long while. He knew she was right. He could see it in Derek’s eyes, hear it in the questions Derek wanted him to answer. He knew he loved Derek, too. That wasn’t in question. His ability to…anything but what they were doing was. 

_might be too late._

_You ass. Hiding behind the No Big Decisions rule? It’s a stupid rule when you’ve already been with someone for months if not years._

_The fuck are you talking about?_

_Oh my god, you’re even stupider than I thought. You are the other half of the alpha pair that leads this pack. There’s not much that mirrors a real wolf pack in a werewolf pack. You know this. We’ve done our research together. You also know that alpha werewolves mate, and mate for life, and you know that the mated pair are in charge of a pack. That part mirrors real wolf packs. You’ve been Derek’s mate for years. You lead our pack just as much as he does. Better, if you actually care to talk about it. You know this, you’re just being an asshole and ignoring it. Stop._

Stiles blinked at the series of texts that rolled in, wondering how the fuck he missed what Lydia was talking about. Was he really the alpha mate? He knew that Scott and Isaac listened to him, that Erica and Boyd and Jackson….well. They didn—he stopped. They _did_ listen to him. They might give him all kinds of hell, but they did listen to him. 

How the fuck had he missed that? 

The phone in his hand buzzed again, and he looked at it, finding one last message from Lydia: _give in to your heart, you jackass. I’ll see you in a few days._

Stiles dropped his phone and rubbed his hand over his face. Of course she got the last word. Banned from his presence by necessity, she still managed to smack him upside the head and point out the truth he was ignoring. He Kissed the top of Derek’s head absently, his phone-holding hand already finding its way into the messy dark strands. Was he fighting making the kind of decision Derek was asking him to make because he honestly didn’t want to make it or because… 

Because what? 

It was hard to think like this, claiming hormones roiling through him. He was determined to let Derek lead in this, tell him what he needed, not take anything that wasn’t offered, but it was so hard. So very, very hard. His knot deflated the rest of the way then, and he slipped out of Derek’s ass, followed by a trickle of come and slick. 

It triggered something in Stiles, and he couldn’t stop himself. He rolled them sharply, flipping Derek onto his back. While the werewolf blinked out of sleep, disoriented and confused, Stiles slithered down his body and shoved open Derek’s legs. 

“You stopped me before,” he growled, pushing Derek’s thighs back to expose Derek’s hole. “You’re not stopping me this time.” He licked into the hole, chasing come and slick and the combined taste of them. 

Derek let out a moan, and hooked his hands behind his knees, pulling himself open. “Stiles,” he whined, rocking up into Stiles’ mouth like he couldn’t stop himself. “Stiles, what…why? Why are you…” 

“Wanted this,” Stiles said, pulling back enough that he could talk. He didn’t stop licking, though. “Wanted this before. Needed it. The taste of you, the taste of me. Need it.” He wriggled his tongue as deep as it could go. 

“Oh my god,” Derek gasped. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Almost as good as your cock, Stiles, fuck.” He kept babbling but Stiles stopped listening, except for part of him that was paying attention to tone. He was too busy tongue fucking Derek, sucking out all the come and slick that he could, laving over the abused muscle of the rim of Derek’s asshole. 

He lost track of time, he was so involved in what he was doing. At some point, he recognized that all he was getting was fresh slick from Derek, that Derek had his hand wrapped around his cock and was stroking, that Stiles was rubbing his own cock against the bed, but any real awareness of time was long gone. 

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,” Derek chanted, moaning, pulling at Stiles’ hair. “Please please, please.” He whined, obviously trying to get Stiles’ attention. 

Stiles looked up, dazed, following the pull of the hand in his hair until he was covering Derek with his body, and his cock was once again nudging at Derek’s hole. 

“Yes, perfect, give that to me,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ mouth, somehow worming a hand between them to get Stiles’ cock back in his ass. His mouth latched onto Stiles’ at the same time, and Stiles responded possessively, thrusting his tongue into Derek’s mouth the same tempo he thrust his cock into Derek’s ass. 

Derek gave it up to him. He just held on, letting Stiles have the control he needed. His moans were soft, more encouragement and reassurance than expressions of pleasure. 

“Mine,” Stiles said, biting at Derek’s lip. “You’re mine. I can’t…I’m not letting anyone else have you. Ever. You’re mine, Derek. You get what you want, because I can’t…I can’t. I just can’t.” Stiles kissed Derek hard, still possessive and claiming, and fucked hard and deep. 

He growled, frustrated that he wasn’t getting the angle he wanted, and pushed away. Derek protested, trying to keep Stiles against him, but somehow, Stiles squirmed out of his grasp. He knelt fully upright and hooked his arms under Derek’s knees. He used the angle to fuck harder, going deeper. “Mine, do you hear me?” he asked, growling again. 

“Yours. Stiles, I’m yours, you know I am,” Derek said, pupils blown, the ring around them flickering between hazel and red. “I’ve been yours, you just—“

“Stop,” Stiles said, stopping himself. “Not now. Later. When we can think. Flip over, Derek, I need to fuck you.” 

“Already were,” Derek said, but he obeyed. It took some help, because the sex they’d been having had taken its toll, even with werewolf healing, but they got Derek onto his hands and knees. 

Stiles, not caring how he looked, just caring that he got to fuck Derek as deep and as hard as possible, shifted to a crouch. He guided his cock back into Derek’s ass, moving until he was pressed as tightly against Derek’s ass as he could be. He started to move, not even bothering with a build up, just rolling into hard, bruising thrusts. 

His hips slammed against Derek’s ass, their skin slapping together. This was what Stiles needed, this possessive, hard, raw fucking that only his werewolf could take. His werewolf. No one else’s. Derek would never fuck anyone else again, unless they decided to share someone. Derek. Was. His. 

“Stiles,” Derek moaned, arching his back for a better angle. “Stiles, feels good. More, give me more.” 

Stiles snarled—he hadn’t known he could do that, cool—and put more force into it. His knot was forming again, he could feel it, but he was moving too hard and fast for it to catch. Each thrust pulled it free of Derek’s ass again, and Derek started whimpering every time it did. 

“Tell me…if it’s…too much…” Stiles demanded, listening for a change from wanton need to pain. 

“No, don’t stop,” Derek moaned. “I need this. Need you. Need this, Stiles, fucking…Stiles!” He came again. Stiles knew without having to see the white dribbles of semen, knew just by the way Derek’s ass tightened around his dick. It pushed him that much closer, and he snarled, fingers bruising Derek’s hips. 

“Now,” Derek moaned. “Now, knot me know!” He pushed back, trying to force Stiles to do what he wanted. 

Stiles let him, because that’s what he wanted. In one movement, he dropped to his knees, pushing Derek forward off his, onto his stomach, and slammed home one last time, burying his knot deep in Derek’s ass. It swelled rapidly, locking them together once more, and Stiles bit the back of Derek’s neck. He clamped down at the juncture of shoulder and neck, a hard, claiming bite that broke skin and drew blood. 

Derek screamed; there was no other word for it. He screamed and went limp, letting Stiles take over all control of his body. 

Stiles rocked his hips hard, unable to draw back very far, but pushing in as deep as he could. His hands covered Derek’s, tangling their fingers together and squeezing hard. He kept them locked together, knot, hands, and mouth, for as long as he could. He lost track of time. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except keeping himself tied with Derek, claiming him as his omega, his mate, and showing Derek who his alpha was. Stiles felt like he was in a daze. 

“Stiles,” Derek murmured a long while later. “Stiles.” 

Stiles finally let go of Derek’s neck. He dragged his tongue over the wound, cleaning up the thin trickle of blood that escaped before it started to heal over. He made a soft, involuntarily sound of disappointment before he realized he made it. The wound immediately stopped healing. “…Derek?” 

“You need it,” Derek said softly. 

Stiles blinked. He did. He needed that mark on Derek’s neck, his mark. “You’ll keep yourself from healing for me?” 

“I’ll let it heal naturally,” Derek corrected. “It’ll scar.” 

Stiles’ breath caught. A scar. Derek would carry a scar, his scar, his mark. He moaned softly and dragged his tongue over the wound again. “Mine,” he said quietly against Derek’s skin. “You’re mine.” 

“I know.” 

“I couldn’t…I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—“ 

Derek cut him off. “No,” he said. “No, you did what you needed to. What you felt you needed t. You’re not…you’re not wrong. Making decisions during a heat is wrong, a bad idea.” 

Stiles nuzzled against Derek’s hair. Fuck, why did he tie them in this position? He wanted to look into Derek’s eyes, see his face. 

“We didn’t…this isn’t…” Derek grumbled, and tried again. “We made this decision already, though. At least…I did. When I came here.” 

Stiles sighed softly. “Lydia texted me. Told me not to be an idiot.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles could feel his skin shift, and knew exactly what Derek had done to get it. “Lydia?”

“Texted me again. Told me not to be an idiot. Told me to let myself love you.” Stiles nuzzled Derek’s head again. “Since…I’ve been in love with you for a while. Just…couldn’t admit it.” 

Derek didn’t say anything. Not verbally, anyway. His fingers tightened around Stiles’ fingers, though, and he turned his head a little more so that he could see Stiles better. 

Stiles lifted his head, looking down at Derek. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. I love you. I have. I just…”

“Was as scared as I was?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles let out a slow breath. “Yeah.” He leaned down, kissing Derek as best as the awkward angle would allow. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever shared with anyone. “Are we always going to have emotional talks like this? Because I may have to object on the general principal that I am a manly man that doesn’t talk about my feelings.” 

“The girls would all kick your ass if they heard you say that,” Derek said with a snort. 

“I know, which is why I’m saying it in front of you, not them. Seriously, though. This is hard, and I don’t like doing it very often. Is this going to be a common thing?” 

“Only when I’m in heat,” Derek said with a sigh and an eye roll. Stiles thought it looked weird with only one eye visible. “I can’t…I can’t seem to control my tongue when I’m in heat, and a lot of things I wouldn’t normally say come out.” 

“Oh, so I should expect a return to my grumpy Sourwolf once you’re through this, then?” Stiles said dryly. 

Derek immediately growled. 

“Ass,” Stiles said fondly, and stole another kiss. 

Derek gave him a small smile. “The answer is…yes. Sort of. I don’t…A lot of how I’ve been was so that I didn’t say what I shouldn’t.” He grimaced a little. “I was afraid I’d let on how I felt, so I went…a little too far the other way.” 

“A little?” Stiles said with a snort. “You slammed my head into a steering wheel!” 

“Okay, you were being a shit, and I wasn’t in love with you yet,” Derek protested. He shifted his hips, which shifted Stiles’ knot and cock in his body, and they both moaned. “Fuck,” Derek panted. “Definitely not done with this yet.”

Stiles went back to nuzzling his mark on Derek’s shoulder. “Then how ‘bout we wait until this is over to finish our discussion?” he asked. He rolled his hips, driving his cock a little deeper again. 

“Yeah,” Derek said with a breathy moan. “Okay. Fuck…you down enough to fuck me again yet?” 

“Let’s find out.”

~*~

Stiles was dreaming. He was dreaming that there was a massive purple dildo chasing him, and it had Jackson’s voice. It kept yelling how it was going to get him back, god damn it, Stiles, she shoved that thing up to my nose and demanded to know if it smelled offensive! And Stiles was running, trying to get away, but the Jackson-dildo was getting closer, getting closer, god damn, he wasn’t going to get away, he was going to get crushed by a giant purple dildo, and he really didn’t want—

And then he woke up, panting, pushing up out of his tangle of pillows and covers and everything else. Less pushing than flailing, really, since he wound up with one arm tangled in his blanket, standing next to the bed. “Fuck,” he panted, blinking and breathing harshly. “That was…no.” He rubbed his eyes and tried to reorient himself. He hated bad dreams. He squinted a little, trying to figure out what was missing, and then realized it was Derek. Where the hell was Derek? He should have whacked him with all the flailing trying to get out of bed. 

Dread settled into his stomach. Derek was gone. Fuck. He knew that this was too good to last, that there was no way Derek actually meant everything he said during his heat cycle. Stiles cursed under his breath, running his hand through his hair roughly. 

Well. Nothing to do but head to the bathroom and shower away the exertions of three-four days. They hadn’t showered past that first one, and he was offensive even to his nose, inured to the locker room of teen boys. Stiles padded that way, lost in trying to figure out how he was going to face Derek knowing what he admitted under duress, wonder if he was going to be able to control himself. Well, of course he was going to be able to control himself, he was more capable than that, what a stupid thought. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said from the shower. 

Stiles startled badly, flailing and smacking his hand against the doorway. “Ow! What the fuck? What are you…I thought…” 

“And that’s why you’re an idiot. You thought I was gone. After all that, you thought I was gone.” Derek’s look was somewhere between amusement and offended, with a good dose of hurt thrown in just to twist the knife in Stiles’ heart a little. 

“You were gone!” Stiles protested. He regained control of his limbs, and headed for the shower. He climbed in from the back. “What was I supposed to think?”

“How about my sense of smell couldn’t stand what we reeked of any more?” Derek suggested. “That maybe I was in the kitchen getting food? I’ve been chained to your bed, more or less, for days. Maybe I just had to pee?” 

Stiles flushed. “In my defense, I was dreaming that I was being chased by a giant purple dildo that sounded like Jackson,” he mumbled. He was moving into Derek’s space, though, slipping an arm around his waist. He moved slowly, still a little afraid that he was going to be rejected. 

Derek rolled his eyes and hooked his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him in close. “You’re an idiot,” he repeated, and kissed Stiles. 

Stiles melted into it with a sigh. Derek was right. He was being an idiot. Even fighting death and wolfsbane, Derek tended toward painful honesty. Why would heat-addled Derek be any different? “Yeah, well. I’m your idiot.” 

“You are,” Derek said, nuzzling against Stiles’ cheek. “And you stink, and you have to be hungry, so can we do this shower thing so we can go down stairs and eat, and then let our pack know that I’m not dead?” 

Stiles blinked water away from his eyes and raised his eyebrows. “Do you mean that ‘our pack’ thing in the sense that we’re both members, or…” 

“Oh my god,” Derek groaned. “Seriously. Idiot.”


End file.
